


Wayward Son

by McRaider



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Gil is Malcolm's surrogate father, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm is a little drugged, mentions of Jackie, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22111192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: PS Kink Meme response to request: Instead of Dani escorting Malcolm home in episode 2, it’s Gil.In which Gil remembers why he loves this kid so damn much.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 177





	Wayward Son

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in submitting a prompt here's the website: https://prodigal-kink.dreamwidth.org/

Gil had been watching his kid most of the afternoon since he’d returned to work after getting bit by that damn snake. He put the two tumblers on the coffee table, one in front of the kid and the other near his chair before he poured two fingers full of bourbon into each. Setting the bottle down, he grabbed his glass and sat back to look at his kid. “You saved that family today. As a member of this team, you should be proud of yourself,” Gil told Bright as he studied him. He could miss the way his kid’s shoulders sagged, or the bags under his eyes, the way he leaned forward like he was trying to protect himself. 

Malcolm held the tumbler for a moment, “Yeah,” the response was sardonic. “Definitely,” with a hint of self-loathing. It left a sour taste in Gil’s mouth, one that not even the burn from the bourbon could fully rid him of. 

Sighing, he crossed one leg over another, studying the young man before him a little harder. He was a man now, thirty, and yet Gil still saw a sweet kid who gave up everything to save a complete stranger. The ache in his chest was a familiar one, as if his heart had been yanked from its chest, mentally scarred and walked around for thirty years. Christ, he loved this kid. It was an all-encompassing feeling that frequently left him overwhelmed with a desire to wrap the bastard in bubble wrap and lock him away forever. “Kid, what do I need to know? How bad is it?” 

Malcolm studied him before he shook his head, it hung low between his shoulder blades, it had done that during school when Malcolm had been bullied. “You don’t need to worry about me,” Malcolm promised. “I can do the job,” Malcolm heaved a sigh that made Gil’s stomach churn. “Actually, it’s the place I feel most normal. I need it,” he explained taking another long sip of the amber liquid. 

Gil hated that that’s how Malcolm felt, he wished he could fix everything, Jackie had always made things a little easier. But then she’d also always told Gil he underestimated how much he did for the boy. “Yeah, that’s not a good thing. Nobody should need this.” Gil reasoned, because, after a lifetime of nightmares and horrific visuals he’d be stuck with forever, he knew that needing this job meant you didn’t have an outside escape. Gil knew that because he needed it too. “Why’d you come back, Bright? You could’ve gone anywhere and stayed away from your father’s legacy, why come home?” As much as Gil hated the idea of it, he wished Malcolm had gone off and made a life, found a way to be whole with someone. Someone who wasn’t an old beaten down widower.

“Because you can only run away from your past for so long,” Malcolm answered honestly, “And you know, ‘Home is where the heart is’” he said with the worst southern twang Gil had ever heard. 

Gil smirked, “Here’s to family,” he replied as they clinked their heavy tumblers together before Malcolm sat back. Gil could see the hesitation in Malcolm’s eyes, but he remained quiet, knowing his kid would talk eventually. 

“You’ll, uh call me in on another case?” Blue eyes nervously met Gil’s brown ones. 

Gil smirked, “Absolutely, one hundred percent,” he chuckled at his reference to their earlier conversation. 

Malcolm smiled and tossed the rest of his drink back, before setting the tumbler on the table. The kid looked absolutely exhausted. “Goodnight, Gil.” Malcolm smiled before he pushed himself up off the couch, or rather attempted. He nearly collapsed. 

Gil’s brows furrowed as he stepped forward, knowing damn well that while this kid’s medication didn’t always mix well with alcohol, it shouldn’t ever work that quickly. “Hey, what’s that, one drink and you’re falling over?” He stood and moved over to Bright. 

“It’s fine,” Malcolm replied, drinking owlishly at the floor as he straightened slower, his eyes slightly unfocused. “It’s fine, they must’ve given me an Ativan at the hospital, that or an antihistamine. Something’s reacting with the alcohol. But I’m fine,” he turned and nearly stumbled into the glass-paned door. 

“No, no, no no, no,” Gil said as he shot forward with more grace than a man his age and gripped Malcolm’s shoulders to help keep him upright. “You’re not getting yourself anywhere like this,” he replied as he rubbed Malcolm’s tense shoulder and neck. “Powell, could you handle everything? I’m taking him home.”

She gave him a small smile and a nod before Gil held Malcolm up with one hand, and his other hand grabbed his coat. With practiced ease, he ushered Malcolm out of the precinct and into the parking lot, thankfully avoiding the stairs. Opening the door to his car, he gently pushed Malcolm down, keeping one hand above his head so he didn’t crack it against the car frame, and deposited the man on the bench seat. Making sure Malcolm’s long legs were tucked in, he closed the door and pulled on his coat, before he climbed into the driver’s side. 

Gil decided he could manage Bright for one night and drove his car towards his own home. Bright hadn’t been to the house since, well since Jackie’s funeral, but the place was still the same and he still had a bedroom. 

Pulling up to his usual parking spot outside his brownstone, he shut his car off and looked over to Malcolm who had been quiet and looked more than a little dazed. “This isn’t my place,” mumbled Malcolm. 

Gil chuckled as he exited his side and moved over to maneuver Malcolm out of the passenger’s side. The two made the slow and wobbly trek to the front door, and Gil made quick work of getting the door unlocked. “No, it’s mine.” Three years gone and Gil still imagined Jackie cooking in the kitchen, or reading by the lamp as she waited for her husband to come home from work. 

But there was no one, the house was dark except for the security light he kept on in the hallway. Closing the door behind him he locked it and then gently steered his kid up the stairs towards the familiar room. “It still smells like her,” Malcolm whispered along the way. 

“Yeah, it does,” he replied as he pushed the door open to the old bedroom belonging to Malcolm Bright. He didn’t tell Malcolm that sometimes he’d sit in his room with his wife’s side of the drawers open so he could smell her perfume when he was really alone. 

“Where's my cuffs,” Malcolm asked looking down at the bed, “What if I have a night terror,” his voice had become slightly more slurred. 

“Jackie would never approve of you restraining yourself, besides, you slept here for ten years and never once did you need them. We’ll manage,” Gil promised as he gently pushed the boy onto the bed. They’d chosen the bedroom directly across from the master bedroom, to ensure if Malcolm ever did run after a night terror, he’d run straight into their room, he usually made plenty of noise so they had always been prepared. Jackie said it felt inhumane to keep the child locked up when all he needed was a reminder that he was safe. 

Malcolm sagged completely into the familiar old bed, his head hitting the pillow and eyes closing. “You.” 

Gil’s brows furrowed as he gently began to remove Malcolm’s vest and expensive button-down shirt, leaving only his white undershirt. “What?” 

“I moved back because I was worried ‘bout you.” Malcolm replied, “And I missed you.” 

Gil froze from where he’d been removing Malcolm’s shoes, his heart clenching at those words. Before he gave the kid’s calf a squeeze. “You don’t need to worry about me, Malcolm. But I’m glad you came home, I’ve missed you too.” He removed Malcolm’s other shoe before he drew the blankets up over his kid. Sitting down beside him he stared at the familiar pale blue eyes that were only half-lidded. “You’re not alone anymore, kiddo,” he whispered. Reaching his hand over he gently brushed Malcolm’s hair from his face. 

“Neither are you,” murmured Malcolm. 

Gil smirked, his eyes landing on a photo on the bedside table, it was of him, Jackie and Malcolm after one of Malcolm’s piano recitals. He had been so proud he’d beamed the whole time to have Jackie and Gil there. “I love you, kid,” Gil whispered before he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s temple. Standing, he clicked the light off and headed into his own bedroom. 

End


End file.
